


Still Breathing

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: A virus has taken hold at the prison.  Daryl goes on a run, determined to bring back meds to ensure the community’s survival, but will his girl still be alive when he makes it home?





	Still Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> This is another anonymous request that was sent in a ridiculously long time ago - I’m sorry! It’s a short little angsty one-shot, so I hope you enjoy!

Daryl couldn’t breathe.  His chest felt tight, his lungs constricted as panic took hold, the knot in his stomach so big that he thought he might be sick.  He’d been scared of this.  The whole time he’d been out searching for meds, he’d had the image in his head of his girl, pale and lifeless, stolen from him by this damn virus that was ripping through the prison and leaving devastation in its wake. She was sick when he left, her skin pale and glazed with sweat as her body burned with a raging fever, too weak to speak, every muscle aching as the choking cough stole away the last of her energy.  It had been his driving force out on the road.  It didn’t matter what was thrown his way: walkers; fuckin’ reckless comrades, their logic twisted by grief and anger; and that asshole who thought that numbing his pain with liquor was more important than getting the antibiotics the group needed.  Shit, Daryl could’ve thrown him off that damn roof, let the biters tear him apart and not felt any remorse, but he knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted so he’d reined himself in, stayed in control, and gotten them all back safe with the supplies to hand over to the doc so he could go to work.

Except he was already working, on his knees, bent over the bottom bunk, his hands braced on Y/N’s torso as he fought to bring her back to life.  Even in the dim light, Daryl could see the bloody streaks up Hershel’s arms.  The thin tank top she wore was saturated with it.  A whimper of desperation escaped his throat as he watched the doctor pinch her nose, bringing his mouth to hers and breathing air into her lungs, before going back to his compressions, pumping her chest in a steady rhythm, though his shoulders slumped a little more with every passing second.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, only the steel bars of the cell keeping him upright, his whole body drained, when Hershel sat back, shaking his head.  

‘I’m sorry, son.  She’s gone.’

‘No.’  Did he really think that was it?  That he could say those two words and just give up?  She wasn’t gone, she couldn’t be.  He needed her.  What was the fucking point of any of this if he didn’t have her by his side?  A surge of adrenaline pulsed through him, and he strode into the cell, shoving the doc roughly aside as he took his place, leaning over the pale, lifeless figure and trailing his fingers over her cheek.  ‘No, she ain’t.  She can’t be!’  

His thumb rubbed over her bottom lip, before he replaced it with his own, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth and breathing in the scent of her, before he pinched the bridge of her nose once again, and exhaled, forcing air down her throat and into her chest.

He hadn’t done this before, wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he’d rather die himself than walk away, and so he positioned his hands on her chest and pushed down hard.   _1…2…3…4…_

He kept to the pace he’d seen Hershel set, stopping periodically to breathe more oxygen into her mouth.  Sweat from dripping from his forehead onto her neck, trailing down over her collarbone, and his arms ached from the repetitive motion, but he kept going.  He wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

A gentle hand rested on his arm, a soothing voice behind him, as the doctor tried to coax him away.  ‘Daryl, there’s nothing you can do.’

‘No.’ He wouldn’t believe it.  She wasn’t gone.  She wouldn’t leave him.  ‘No, c’mon, Y/N, come back t’ me.’  Another breath.  ‘I ain’t doin’ this without ya.  Ya have t’ come back, alright?  C’mon, just breathe for me, please.’

‘Son-‘

‘No!’

Hershel left him then, slipping out of the cell, unable to watch any longer, off to tend to his living patients now he had what he needed to keep them that way.  

All Daryl could think was that it was his fault. He’d been too late.  If he’d gotten back a few hours ago… 1 hour… 10 minutes… she might still be alive.  If they hadn’t run into those walkers… If he hadn’t taken the time to stare down Bob…

‘C’mon, babe.’

Time became meaningless as he lost himself in the rhythm, in the routine…   _Breathe… 1…2…3…4…_   How long had he been working on her?  He didn’t have a clue.  He’d lost count of the compressions too many times, let his grief take over, his movements faltering, his own breath coming in choking gasps as he tried to contain his misery.

Five more minutes, he told himself.  Five more minutes and he’d let her have her peace. But those five minutes came and went and he still couldn’t bring himself to step away.

_Breathe…_

_Breathe…_

_Breathe…_

And then, with a horrific bubbling sound, she was lurching upright, sending him tumbling backwards, as blood spurted from her lips, but she was breathing by herself, her body trembling as she gazed down at her own bloody hands.

‘Y/N?’

She looked round wildly, her eyes locking onto his, taking in the fear and grief painted across his features, as he moved forwards to wrap his arms around her, feeling her sag against him as she broke down.

‘Doc!  Doc, get in here!’

‘Daryl.’  Her voice was weak, shaky, but the sound of her saying his name was overwhelming in that moment and it took all the strength he had left to keep it together for her as she clung to him.  ‘Daryl, I love you.’

‘I love ya, too,’ he whispered, his fingers creeping into her hair so he could hold her to his chest.  ‘I couldn’ let ya die, ya hear me.  Y’ain’t leavin’ me.’

‘I’m not.  I’m here.’  Her words were barely coherent through her tears, but he understood, and he quieted her as he called for Hershel again.  

‘S’all okay, Y/N, I promise.  Yer gonna be okay.’  

It would all be okay, he told himself, as long as she was here, as long as she was his.  Still living, still surviving, still breathing.


End file.
